Ryū’s training at the Uchiha clan’s training ground continued uninterrupted for several weeks.
He was well aware of the attention from the higher-ups.
From time to time, he could sense fleeting gazes from deep within the surrounding forest.
He didn’t mind in the slightest.
In fact, this was already part of his plan.
Konoha’s ANBU were like ever-present cameras, faithfully broadcasting his effort and his “talent” to the biggest top-tier sponsor sitting in the Hokage Office.
— Inside the Hokage Office.
An ANBU wearing a tanuki mask knelt on one knee, reporting in a flat, emotionless voice.
“…In summary, Kazama Ryū has been in frequent contact with the Uchiha clan recently.
He has accepted their training grounds and financial support.
Based on our observations, this appears to be a personal investment made by the Uchiha clan’s Second Elder.” Hiruzen Sarutobi took a puff from his pipe and nodded.
“The Uchiha… still as eager for quick gains as ever,” he said, setting the pipe down.
“A civilian genius is certainly a target worth courting.
Continue observing, but do not interfere.” “Yes.” The ANBU vanished into the shadows.
Hiruzen Sarutobi stood by the window, his gaze deep and contemplative.
— Meanwhile, in an even darker underground facility beneath Konoha… Danzo Shimura received the same intelligence.
He scanned the contents of the scroll with his single visible eye, the corner of his mouth lifting into a cold, mocking curve.
“Hmph.
The Uchiha truly live up to their reputation—always resorting to such petty tactics.
A foundationless genius paired with an ambitious clan… how interesting.” The Root ninja behind him instinctively steadied their breathing.
— Ryū, of course, had no idea that he had already become a chess piece in the games of two powerful figures.
All he knew was that he had hit a bottleneck.
He looked at his slightly trembling hands, felt the deep soreness in his muscles, and frowned.
“The bucket effect, huh…” Practicing ninjutsu alone was like endlessly pouring water into a wooden bucket—but the water level would always be limited by the shortest plank.
His weakest point was his physical constitution.
If he wanted to advance further, he needed to strengthen his body.
— The next morning, just as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the mist, Ryū was already in the forest on the outskirts of the village.
He didn’t choose ordinary running.
Instead, he attached basic weight-bearing seals to his legs and back.
Every step felt like trudging through a swamp.
His bangs were quickly soaked with sweat as it streamed down his cheeks.
His lungs burned like a bellows, each breath scraping his throat with pain.
Just as he felt he was nearing his limit, a strange voice rang out from a nearby clearing.
“Five hundred fifty-four!
Five hundred fifty-five!
Burn, my youth!” The voice was so loud it shook the leaves from the trees, brimming with an indescribable passion.
Ryū followed the sound—and witnessed a scene he would never forget.
A young man in a bright green bodysuit was upside down, balanced on the ground.
Supporting his entire body… …with a single index finger.
One-finger handstand push-ups.
Thick eyebrows.
Bowl-cut hair.
Teeth shining with blinding brilliance.
Every iconic feature was present.
Might Guy.
As Ryū studied him, Guy noticed Ryū as well.
With a smooth flip, Guy landed lightly on his feet, thrusting out a thumbs-up and flashing a smile bright enough to blind.
“Ohhh!
A fellow youth sweating in the early morning!
This is the true pinnacle of youth!” He dashed over in two strides, his large eyes blazing with enthusiasm.
“I recognize you!
You’re Kazama Ryū—the one who fought Kakashi to a draw!
My destined rival’s rival is my rival!
Come!
Let us honor this precious youth with a passionate showdown!” Without giving Ryū any chance to refuse, he struck a dramatic pose.
Three black lines slid down Ryū’s forehead.
Wasn’t this enthusiasm a bit much?
He had planned to find an excuse and leave—his training schedule for the day wasn’t finished, and he had no time to indulge this hot-blooded lunatic.
But when he met Guy’s eyes, the words stuck in his throat.
They were pure and clear, like a sky washed clean by rain—completely free of guile.
Burning within them was an enthusiasm that was almost foolish, yet utterly sincere.
In a ninja world filled with masks and schemes, such eyes were like a protected species.
Almost without thinking, Ryū nodded.
“…Alright.” “Oh!
Oh!
Oh!” Guy’s excitement instantly soared.
“As expected of the rival I chose!
Then let’s start with fifty laps around the village!” “…” — The rest of the morning taught Ryū what it meant to be “painful, yet happy.” He and Guy competed in everything—running laps around the village, push-ups, pull-ups, and more.
Guy was like a perpetual motion machine, overflowing with inexhaustible energy.
That enthusiasm was infectious, allowing Ryū’s perpetually tense heart—the heart of a former corporate slave—to relax for the first time in a long while.
No schemes to calculate.
No people to weigh.
Just sweating alongside this idiot.
“Ha… ha… Ryū!
Your endurance and willpower are truly incredible!” Guy lay sprawled on the grass, panting heavily but smiling in deep satisfaction.
“As recognition, I’ve decided to introduce you to my father!
Might Duy!” Father?
Duy.
Ryū’s heart skipped a beat.
A name flashed through his mind like lightning.
Might Duy.
The Eight Gates.
The strongest forbidden technique a civilian ninja could ever touch.
A trump card capable of defying fate itself.
What had started as casual relaxation instantly changed.
Ryū’s gaze toward Guy transformed—from looking at an “interesting idiot” to staring at a walking treasure vault.
How was this just youthful enthusiasm?
This was clearly his VIP pass to the road of becoming a true powerhouse!
“Of course!” Ryū replied immediately, his tone sincere, his attitude completely reversed.
“I’d be honored to meet the father who raised someone like you!” Before visiting Might Duy, Guy insisted on another taijutsu match.
This time, Ryū focused completely.
The moment the spar began, he felt overwhelming pressure.
Too fast.
Guy’s speed was completely mismatched with his ridiculous outfit.
He was like a green cannonball, every charge tearing through the air.
Even with a Level 3 Body Flicker Technique and maxed Three Basic Jutsu, Ryū could barely keep up.
And when their fists and kicks truly collided, Ryū finally understood what terror meant.
Guy’s strength was absurd.
Every block sent numbness shooting up his arms.
This was not strength a child should possess.
“Bang!” Caught off guard, Ryū took a blow to the side and was sent flying, rolling several times before stopping.
“Hiss…” It felt like his bones were about to come apart.
Guy rushed over immediately, scratching his head awkwardly.
“Sorry!
Sorry!
I can’t really hold back once I get serious.” Ryū waved it off and pushed himself up, staring at Guy with eyes that burned brighter by the second.
Strong.
Unreasonably strong.
So this was the power of someone who specialized in taijutsu.
A long-term plan quietly took root in his mind.
“Befriend Guy—no… become Guy’s closest friend.” Under Guy’s borderline self-destructive “youthful” training, Ryū’s body quietly transformed amid pain and exhilaration.
With a thought, he opened the system panel.
[Basic Taijutsu: Lv.4 (1995/2000)] Only one point remained.
Basic Taijutsu was about to reach perfection.
At the same time, the rough framework of the “Eight Gates” theory Guy excitedly explained throughout the day resonated clearly in Ryū’s mind, overlapping with the proficiency bar before his eyes.
“My father says the Eight Gates are a forbidden technique that opens the body’s limiters one by one!” Guy explained excitedly while doing squats.
Ryū listened in silence, engraving every word into his memory.
He knew he had found another path to the summit—one that ran parallel to grinding proficiency.
A plan to obtain the strongest forbidden technique was gradually taking shape.
And the first step… …was right in front of him.